We took a moment to compare notes on our experience moving about in the world. We talked about where the paths we are on might take us and about how/if it matters.
She was feeling some sort of existential crisis and by the time she left the sharpness had eased away from her tone.
I half expected to see her here tonight. I am sitting in the seat where she sat.
Hey, in case I don't see you again and in case you are reading this...and you might be reading this since I told you that I sometimes feel like I am writing into a void. And you seem the recognize the gift that being seen/heard can be. (By invitation only, of course).
I walked on unfamiliar ground today and I felt fear creeping in. And even now, I feel like I may have to navigate streets filled with zombies. I have to focus on moving through and my ears must remain deaf the pleas of the un-dead.
It must be clear to them that I am not yet one of them. Else they would just let me pass. Somehow I still exist in the land of the living even though I feel like I am barely holding on.
Alternative eternity: to be not among the living, to suffer endlessly and find no rest.